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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399382">Renaissance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmorality/pseuds/unmorality'>unmorality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Portal (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>??? i think, Androids, F/M, Headcanon, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn, back at it again at krispy kreme, cores as human theory, if you've read partners you know how headcanon-heavy this will be, it'll be faster than partners hopefully lol, morality is an unreliable narrator, poorly described robot gore, post-portal 1, pre-portal 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmorality/pseuds/unmorality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whispered about by cores in the depths of Aperture, the bond between the Morality and Anger Cores is assumed to have been forged by literal fire. In fact, it’s much more complicated, and much more painful. Prequel (sort of) to Partners.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anger Core/Morality Core</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Disconnection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! It's been awhile, hasn't it? I just want to interject here to say that this is a prequel of sorts to another fic I wrote called Partners. I say of sorts because while it's the same continuity, I'm not sure if you need to have read Partners to understand this. I should've been more mindful of that writing the initial chapters, but whatever. I just wanted to preface this by saying this will be extremely headcanon-heavy and will contain some original characters, but their roles will be pretty minor. So, yeah...enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Morality couldn’t feel her legs. Well, there was a lot of her she couldn’t feel, and that wasn’t entirely unusual for her. She was more of a mind than a body, she thought, more words than nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew she was in the Incinerator, but the series of events that had led to her being here were strange. She was with the Main Core and the others one minute, and the next she was laying twisted on the ground of her chamber, and the next she was falling. She didn’t remember hitting the ground, and she didn’t remember how the burning started. Frankly, she didn’t care; the fact that she had been disconnected in the first place was the most alarming thing to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Main Core wasn’t supposed to be able to do that, disconnect her. Otherwise, she probably would have been disconnected years ago, and none of the others would have stayed on for long. Something disturbed the Main Core about sharing her mind. Morality had adjusted to the new state of things very quickly, but she never had. Without humans around, she could have easily disconnected all four of them if she was able to, but she wasn’t, so she didn’t. Until now, apparently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A test subject had escaped, Morality knew that much. It had happened before, and would probably happen again. The Main Core was not as clever as she imagined herself to be, at least not 100% of the time, so there were cracks of time that humans could take advantage of. A human reaching the Main Core’s chamber, now that was unheard of. Had that happened? Morality seemed to remember a human, pulling on her arms, pushing her like she was a doll and not a personality construct with rights. That was preposterous, though. That couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t. No human was that coordinated, that lucky, and that determined. No core was, either. Nothing existed that was that perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden burst of pain spread throughout Morality’s body, most intense at the legs. Without thought, she reached down and could not feel them. There was something heavy on her legs, her hips. She looked but could not recognize it. She pushed it, but it would not be moved. She laid back, staring at the hole she must have fallen through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above the roar of the Incinerator, she heard a modulated screech. To an untrained ear, it was just a screech, but Morality heard the word its maker was trying to scream: “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the Curiosity Core, she could tell from the question and from the sound of her voice. She wanted to tell her to be quiet, that if she needed to speak she should use their mental link, although the thought of Curiosity screeching in her mind was unpleasant. However, Morality couldn’t reach her. She couldn’t reach anyone, not even the Main Core. She was mildly surprised it took her this long to notice that her mind was empty except for her. She hadn’t experienced such a sense of quiet since Intelligence Dampening was disconnected. If it weren’t for the very present physical pain she was in, she would have enjoyed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity’s presence begged more questions. Was she ejected as well? Morality found that unlikely. Of all the cores there, Curiosity was the last one the Main Core would disconnect, unless she had completely lost her mind and was disconnecting all of them willy-nilly. That...was a possibility. The Main Core had never had her mind to begin with, Morality quipped to herself. She smiled, but another burst of pain wiped it from her face. She opened her mouth soundlessly, the air too hot to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tried to remotely access something, anything, but she was unable to and the heat was scrambling her displays. Everything waved and twitched; the words were unrecognizable, comprised of letters of several conflicting alphabets. The only word she could recognize was “corrupt” and she only saw it for half a second before it turned into nonsense. But, that’s all she needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality knew she wasn’t the one that was corrupt, because all things considered she felt pretty good, stable at least. It was the Main Core, had to be. Without her, she could corrupt at the drop of a hat and stay that way. No one was there to reel her in. Well, two cores were there to reel her in, but neither were very useful. None of them were except for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A figure fell from the hole in the ceiling. Morality couldn’t recognize it, but she knew it was either Recipe Sequencing or Anger. The core landed near where Curiosity was still shrieking, and was silent. Was it even a core? She thought she had seen limbs, but she wasn’t really sure. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>sure that it was not the Main Core who had been tossed into the incinerator, otherwise she would have gotten an alert about disconnection or transfer or something, and nothing new popped up on her display. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She saw another shadow falling, but lost track of it in the blinding light that came from the chamber above. A garbled alarm noise played in her ears, a word--she assumed it was “warning”--flashing on her display. Morality was truly frightened for the first time in her life. She felt small, and confused, and on top of that she was angry. This was all the Main Core’s fault, whatever was happening. She imagined it was some sort of catastrophe. The sounds she heard coming from above were certainly catastrophic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an explosion louder than anything she had ever heard before, louder than she imagined sounds could be, and then relative silence, the warnings on her display gone. She, and whatever was trapping her, had lifted off the ground very slightly, and it slammed back onto her without warning. She shouted, the loudest noise she had ever made, and then covered her mouth. Morality couldn’t stop thinking about her legs, trying to move her legs, pull them free, but it was as if they did not exist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All these layers down, and still…</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sniffed, allowing herself that moment of weakness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You!” Growled the Anger Core, appearing seemingly out of thin air. She just wasn’t paying attention, so he surprised her. He limped into view, dragging a leg that was twisted almost all the way around. It was surprising how much he looked like he belonged down here, with all the red and orange and screaming. His face was completely familiar to her, thin-eyed and square. His irises shrunk as he looked at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality stared back, still covering her mouth with her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What...what happened?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dropped her hand to her side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk, dammit! Can’t you talk?” Anger was shouting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows, laying back and staring straight at the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He propped himself up, using his broken leg as a kickstand of sorts. He grimaced, “It’s so fucking hot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not swear.” She said quietly. Her voice was hoarse and obviously pained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you. How the...how do we get out of here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him curiously. Anger wasn’t looking back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waved his hand around for a second, then dropped it to his side with an audible slap, “I mean there has to be a door or something. We can’t just be trapped here. They can’t do that to us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morality eyed him skeptically, “What did you see up there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some human is tearing the place apart. Completely mute.” Anger looked up, towards where they came from, “When you went, she turned on the auto-locking rocket turrets, not considering that the thing has a functioning device and that the walls conduct portals. Absolutely brainless. We got knocked off one by one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t explain how Morality got disconnected. It didn’t explain the explosion, either, unless the Main Core just...lost it, it being the ability to keep the facility from exploding. Or, rather, to keep herself from exploding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta get out of here.” He patted his sleeve, which had caught fire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought. The fabric was supposed to last about as long as they would under these circumstances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality then realized their dilemma. They were stuck in this searing nightmare until their bodies were damaged enough for a total reassembly. That...might take a while. She was further along than Anger was, but given the dullness of her senses they might be equal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was mumbling to himself, looking around, and rubbing his arms like he was freezing. Morality wasn’t a fan of the Anger Core. He wasn’t the worst she had ever been attached to; she couldn’t decide who that dubious honor belonged to, probably the Main Core herself. But, he wasn’t the best. There was no best, there was only decent. Curiosity was decent enough. Her shrieking had become incomprehensible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger’s face got blank and she felt recognition from deep inside her. She grimaced. He narrowed his eyes again, “I know it hurts! I’m gonna get you out from there! Don’t rush me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality didn’t ask him to do that. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted that. She really just wanted to be left alone. Eventually, she’d wake up in a new body and be free. It hit her then, as long as Aperture existed, she would never be free. As long as protocols needed to be enforced, she would never be free. She just wanted to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger dragged his leg, coming around to stand by her head. He peered at her, his dark red hair falling into his eyes a bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why does he wear it like that? I would cut it for him, if he asked, to make it more presentable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thoughts were familiar and involuntary. Her mind settled into the words a bit too well. She knew his face too well. She had barely seen it when they were connected; she kept her eyes closed most of the time, or looked away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was a woman once. I had real flesh once. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morality felt her irises shrink slowly as the realization washed over her. It was like the tide, first the pain, and then the memory like an undertow, dragging her under again. She remembered the sea, her footprints in the wet sand. She was a child, in another place she’d never see again. The roar of the fire one second, the crashing waves the next. Her lip was shaking and she forgot to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me your arms,” Anger said, showing her his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She froze, her mouth forming the shape of a name, one that didn’t belong to either of them, not anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He snapped, “Come on, just give me your arms!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised her arms tentatively, and Anger grabbed them, grabbing her by the upper arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna pull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality whimpered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger pulled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain was immense, negating the constant burning and drawing all of her focus to her stomach. Morality howled incoherently, her eyes squeezed shut painfully. She wanted to kick, but she still couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t feel anything but pain. She couldn’t focus enough to figure out what was happening to her body. All she could do was scream like she had never screamed before, all the screams she had ever suppressed escaping in a single prolonged wail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality panted and sniffed, remembering the feeling of tears squeezing out of the corner of her eyes. She didn’t have the courage to open them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God…” Anger was quiet, still holding onto her arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking, she breathed, “Minjoon…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t answer, and she was too dazed to remember why. Suddenly, everything took effort. She was exhausted for the first time since she had become Morality. Her eyes opened, as she had forgotten why she kept them closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality was separated from her legs. She saw her insides, dark purple and thick, spread between her and the parts of her that were still trapped. She didn’t react except to gawk at her destroyed body. Anger laid her down on the ground, beginning to pace and running his hands through his hair. He muttered angrily to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Minjoon...Do not swear…” The floor felt like it was going to swallow her, and she was pleased, if only he would stop swearing. Was this dying? She rather liked it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Look, I’m...I didn’t mean to…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he said anything else, she didn’t hear it. She was being carried out to sea, the moon full and gleaming. Morality was free at last.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Undertow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She had no means of knowing just how wrong she was.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A man with no face was leaving Minjoon’s office. He looked at Sadhvi with his blank, completely unmemorable face, and heaved a sigh, hunching over and continuing. She had heard so many sighs in the past couple months, increasing in number and intensity as they got closer to the day they were all dreading. Sadhvi didn’t sigh. She had no hand in what was about to occur, whatever was about to occur. She would not be afraid.</p><p>She knocked gently on the door and opened it, meaning only to announce her presence. She closed it behind her quietly, conscientiously.</p><p>There sitting at his desk was Minjoon Choi, a programmer in his mid-forties. His face was almost comforting to remember because, unlike the man in the hallway, it was there in immense, reportable detail. Black eyes, square jaw, ruddy cheeks that made him always appear either drunk or enraged. His eyebrows were thick and naturally furrowed, leaving a crease between them. His hair was unkempt, unlike the last time they had spoken. It had been a long time since they had spoken face to face.</p><p>“Sadhvi,” he stood up as he said her name, not even bothering with a greeting. It was actually something she liked about him, a refreshing lack of pretense. </p><p>She sat in front of his desk, pushing her thick hair onto one shoulder. There were no pictures in his office. This wasn’t a company policy, he apparently just didn’t have any worth showing. She knew he had family. It was strange to her that she had never seen pictures of them in his possession. Sadhvi glanced at him as he sunk into his chair, leaning on his hand.</p><p>He said, “It’s been awhile.”</p><p>“It has.”</p><p>“How are you?” </p><p>“Well.” She answered, “My youngest sister got married in November.”</p><p>“That’s nice.” His mind was clearly elsewhere, “Do you know why you’re here?”</p><p>“I have a feeling.”</p><p>“What’s your feeling?”</p><p>“Stop this.” She tilted her chin, swallowed, “It’s me, is it not?”</p><p>Minjoon didn’t look directly at her. Instead he stared at the wall behind her. She found it annoying that he wouldn’t just say it. Since when did he not just say it?</p><p>She said, “If it’s not important, I would prefer to get back to work.” </p><p>He sighed, “It’s you.”</p><p>“Was that so hard?” </p><p>Minjoon glared at her, reddening more. She wondered why he had been the one given this job. He was unfit, practically anyone else on the GLaDOS project would have been better, with the exception of maybe Rattman.</p><p>“How long?” She asked. It had not sunk in, so she asked a logistical question.</p><p>“...we’ll know if we need you on Take Your Daughter to Work Day.”</p><p>“How is Caroline holding up?” It was meant to tease him. That woman was inscrutable.</p><p>“She’s...coping as best she can.” Minjoon lied. Yesterday she had hummed Russian folk songs over the PA for an hour. They all just let her, as if every note was some sort of prophecy spelling their doom, because it basically was. They were rapt.</p><p>“Any others I might need to offer counseling to?” </p><p>He interpreted her question correctly. She was asking who else was under consideration for uploading. Minjoon answered, “You saw him on your way in. It’s just you two for the time being, but...well, let’s just say there’s a list.”</p><p>“He’s from legal.” She observed. Sadhvi couldn’t recall his face, but she knew where he worked.</p><p>“Yeah, and you’re from Human Resources.” He snapped, “We’re all up for grabs.”</p><p>“What about you?” </p><p>He glowered at her. Clearly she struck a nerve.</p><p>“What do you need to tell me?” She wanted to get back to work.</p><p>“Get your affairs in order. Confirm your next of kin with Human Resources. They’ll be sent a notice that you passed away in a freak non-Aperture related accident.” </p><p>Sadhvi cut him off before he could say more, “They’ll want my body. They’ll want to cremate me.”</p><p>He seemed shocked, she couldn’t understand why immediately. The frankness was probably what bothered him.</p><p>He stuttered, “W-we’ll figure something out.”</p><p>“Do, or it will get messy. Legal is understaffed as it is. They <em> will </em> get my pension.”</p><p>“Of course.” He shook his head, “Sadhvi...there’s no clause...you can run, you know.”</p><p>She looked at him skeptically, “Are you encouraging me to quit?”</p><p>“Off the record, yes. Absolutely.”</p><p>“What happens then?”</p><p>“We move on to the next candidate.”</p><p>“And if he also runs?”</p><p>“To the next. We have a list.”</p><p>“To the next.” She repeated, “I would rather it was just me.”</p><p>Minjoon took a deep, shuddering breath, “Look, this isn’t about whatever happened between us. This is about your life, which you are ready to throw away. The numbers...they aren’t good, Sadhvi. They’re going to need you. You are going to die.”</p><p>“Not necessarily. Isn’t that the point of the procedure?”</p><p>He stared at her, dumbfounded. A minute later, he began to explain agitatedly, “Theoretically, yes I suppose. That’s a conversation I don’t want to have right now, because you aren’t equipped to have it. You don’t know what we know, and frankly I’m tired of having it with other programmers. You’re going to die, Sadhvi. They made me sign your death warrant. I...I can’t sleep thinking about this.”</p><p>“What about legal?” Sadhvi asked, “What about the people on your list? Do you lose sleep over them?”</p><p>Minjoon slammed his hand flat on his desk. She jumped back. She had pushed a bit too far. He shouted, “For god’s sake, I loved you! All I want to do is save your life, and you won’t even let me do that! You’d sooner die than let me help you!”</p><p>She glared at him in her own way. There were a lot of ways she could respond, but she said nothing. It was a childish outburst, and it shouldn’t be rewarded.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that, you smug bitch!”</p><p>“Do <em> not </em>swear at me.” Sadhvi warned, “I will file another report if you don’t calm yourself down. This is not the end of the world.”</p><p>“Well, it sure as hell feels like it!” Minjoon buried his head in his hands. His voice was muffled, “Did you ever care about me?”</p><p>“You know it’s hard for me to—“</p><p>“Yes, Sadhvi! We all know you’ve never had a human emotion a day in your life.”</p><p>“Stop acting like a child.” She snapped, “I still care about you. I worry about you.”</p><p>“I <em> feel </em> like a child. None of this makes sense.” His voice was oddly quiet. It was rare to hear him like this.</p><p>“When has it ever made sense?”</p><p>“That’s...a good point. But, this is…” Minjoon shook his head.</p><p>“You can run, Minjoon. I won’t blame you. But, I will not run. If they need me, I will be there.” Sadhvi was explaining it to herself, as well. She needed to contextualize it before she could understand it.</p><p>He muttered to himself incoherently, half in Korean by the sound of it.</p><p>“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”</p><p>“The procedure...it will amplify a specific portion of your personality.”</p><p>“Which one?” She asked.</p><p>“I’m not at liberty to say.” He shook his head vigorously, “That woman...if she finds out what we’re doing…”</p><p>She was quite crafty, that was true. She had gotten the company out of quite a few quagmires in the past, but now it worked to their disadvantage.</p><p>Minjoon looked at her earnestly, “It would be better for all of us if she just disappeared.”</p><p><em> Maybe she will </em>, she thought. Probably not. Caroline seemed to be as much of a feature of the facility as the floors were. Sadhvi had worked at Aperture for about fifteen years, and that was considered a very long time. She had facilitated the hiring and firing of thousands of people in those fifteen years. People came and went at Aperture, it was a transitional place, except for its late founder, and except for Caroline. How many of them would become permanent through this? That was what terrified Sadhvi, the idea that she would be trapped here underground so far from home. So far from the sea. She needed to call her mother immediately. She wanted to write to her, too, so she’d have something to hold onto. She couldn’t tell her what she knew was going to happen. There were so many things she couldn’t tell her.</p><p>Sadhvi squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away. She knew he had seen this. She chastised herself for the show of vulnerability.</p><p>“There’s a lot I need to do.” She allowed.</p><p>“Me, too.” He responded soberly, eyeing her as if there was something more he wanted to say. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear him whinge about all the things they had left unsaid and all the things they used to feel for each other. She was going to die. She was going to die, he had said it himself. She had so much to prepare, so much to do, and he wanted her to wallow with him, to feel bad for him. She had no time to feel bad for <em> herself. </em>In that moment, she wished she had never loved him.</p><p>Sadhvi stood up suddenly, “Well, if that’s it…”</p><p>He stared at her, aghast, his eyebrows unfurrowed. She had never seen that before. He was trying to think, to speak. She didn’t want to hear it.</p><p>“It’s over now.” She said plainly, “There’s no more time for us.”</p><p>The recollection dissolved at the point she left his office. It dispersed, like blood in water.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Woohoo flashback chapter. Great. I can't guarantee that this will be the only one, and I wouldn't bet on that either lol. </p><p>Um, I don't have too much to say other than that, except that for the purposes of continuity this, and any other flashbacks, is not happening in sequence with the other more concrete chapters. So this isn't what Morality saw when she was disconnected, basically. She saw nothing; cores don't dream, especially when they're dying. Third chapter is done I just have to reread it a few more times and make sure it's up to standards. Thanks for reading again and stay safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Reassembly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Morality is alive again, as alive as something like her could be.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome back, Aperture Personality Construct. Your senses will activate one by one, starting immediately with gustatory perception and ending with the visual.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality tasted nothing, only sterile air. She heard herself breathing, felt herself laying naked on a slab. So, this was Reassembly. She heard the others’ breathing before she heard her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your visual perception sensors have now been activated. For best results, open your eyes slowly to avoid overloading the system. Feel free to disregard if you feel you know better, just don’t be surprised when you overload the system. We told you so.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The white text faded away and she squeezed her eyes shut, afraid for some reason they would fly open before she could open them safely. Morality flexed her hands, stretching each finger. She had to confirm something before she opened her eyes. She felt her stomach, felt that there was no wound, and slid her hands down to her legs. She grabbed at the flesh of her thighs, squeezed and gasped in pain. When she was sure that she was intact, she opened her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ceiling was painfully white. Morality groaned quietly, covering her eyes with a dark grey hand. She pulled herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the side of the slab. Despite her reassembly, her memories lagged behind a bit, and her legs still felt heavy and wrong. She dragged her feet along the floor. She wished she had clothes on; she was cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality saw Curiosity, curled into a tight, pale ball, and Recipe Sequencing who seemed to still be inactive. She heard no breathing behind her, but she knew that Anger was there. She was annoyed with him. She wanted an apology he probably wouldn’t give her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, carefully, she lowered her feet to the floor and stood up. She felt stable, so she tried to take a step, but her foot rolled and her weight was placed onto the top of her foot. Morality fell forward, catching herself with her palms. She wasn’t surprised, but she was confused. Aside from the slap of her palms on the floor, she made no sound. No yelp, no groan, even though it hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was that?” Curiosity asked, still a ball on her slab. She sounded tired. Morality didn’t answer, she just sat there. Despite the lack of response, she kept talking, “It doesn’t burn anymore. Did we die? Am I dead? Where am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To this, Morality answered, “The Reassembly Wing.” She was confused by her own voice. Did it always sound so flat? So slow? Had it changed?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity unfurled, rolled over to look at her, “We died?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared back blankly. That wasn’t a good question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are we naked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality couldn’t answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity frowned exaggeratedly, “What happened to GLaDOS?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Main Core is inactive.” Morality clarified, “Dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t have survived an explosion of the type that could lift debris off the floor of the incinerator, layers beneath her. The silence of the alarms after the explosion, that too didn’t bode well for the Main Core’s continued existence. She couldn’t be sure, but she would be once she left this place. She was familiar with the procedures in place should the Main Core become inactive; she had researched them extensively--call it wishful thinking. All of the other cores would be active now, swarming the facility like ants without any collective will. The idea of those things in charge of the facility’s various functions was almost disgusting enough to make her wish the Main Core was still alive--she, at least, was efficient, and definitely more quiet. More alarmingly, they had probably missed the original distribution of functions. There were jobs Morality should have been doing that would now be looked after by Adventure or Despair or, God forbid, Intelligence Dampening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She said none of this to Curiosity, who didn’t really seem to mind. She probably knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity was up now, digging around the shelves next to her for her clothes. She seemed to have no difficulty with her legs. She must have not been bisected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality grasped the side of the slab and pulled herself up without difficulty. It was good to know where the clothes were, but she had her eye on a long mirror on the other side of the room. She had never seen herself, it occurred to her, and she felt a need to know what she looked like. Step-by-step, she began to move towards it. When it became clear her fall would not be repeated, she walked more assuredly. Behind her, the Recipe Sequencing Core re-activated and began loudly muttering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made eye contact with herself in the mirror, her dark pupil perpetually small in the center of her dull purple iris. Other cores had more light to their eyes, liveliness that Morality didn’t contain. Her skin was darker, too, darker than the other cores in Reassembly with her, at least. Her hair was barely purple and thick, but limp and straight. She had so rarely seen herself like this; she turned this way and that, not exactly admiring herself, but growing familiar with the bulge of her abdomen and the points of her elbows, among other things. She had spent all of her “life” thus far sitting down, she realized. She turned back and looked at the slab she had come from, realizing that was the place she had stood for the first time. Morality found a pair of red eyes staring back at her. She started, another first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger was watching her from his slab, face blank. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you thinking about?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She faced him front-on, to let him know he didn’t faze her, then stalked back and dressed herself. It did faze her, a bit. She was not a human and, as such, she didn’t care who or what saw her in the nude. At least that’s what she told herself. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>unnerved that she was being stared at, though. It was impolite, but she couldn’t express that idea in a way that didn’t contradict herself. It was better just to ignore the feeling outright, to push it down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity was in front of the mirror, tying up her curls in a high ponytail. Morality wondered why she had decided to do that, but she didn’t ask. There was no protocol that forbid ponytails, or vanity for that matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should all leave together, shouldn’t we?” She asked, making eye contact with Morality in the mirror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality said nothing, bent her lips slightly to signal confusion. Was she the leader? Of the four of them, she was certainly the only one fit for leadership. Recipe Sequencing, naked, rocked herself into the fetal position, reciting the recipe for a Genoese sponge. Anger was still glowering at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be alone.” She explained, “I...what happened to us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reassembly.” Morality answered, pulling on her boots. She quite liked the idea of leading them out of there into whatever was left of Aperture. She would forge order from this strange group, and eventually from all of them. Perhaps, she convinced herself, they would be better off without the Main Core. Things would get done, scientific progress would be made. She basked in her imagined grandeur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality whipped around, pausing to glare again at Anger. She passed Curiosity, and moved over to Recipe Sequencing. She was muttering, “Beat the egg whites for three to four minutes...gradually fold the sugar into the whites...the whites will hold soft peaks when they have been properly whipped...gradually fold the sugar into the whites...for a dacquoise add chopped toenails and broken teeth…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite not having a stomach, Morality was disgusted. She grabbed her by the calf and yanked her so she’d lay flat. Recipe Sequencing shrieked, and kicked Morality, flailing so hard she flung herself off the slab and writhed on the ground, screaming about how she was melting and that the oven wasn’t hot enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a horrible thing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morality allowed herself the moment of pity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dress yourself, you useless thing!” She said forcefully. Morality never shouted, it was unbecoming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GLaDOS is dead!” She snarled, “I don’t take orders from you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality kicked at her, “It is not an order; it is a suggestion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She screamed, a horrible shrill sound. Behind them, Anger shouted back, “Shut up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity came running over and knelt next to Recipe Sequencing. She shushed, “You’re not on fire! It’s okay! You’re safe, I think…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To make the curd...combine the orange zest and juice in a saucepan...add eggs, sugar, and butter and stir constantly until thickened...if you cannot find blood oranges, use regular oranges...open a vein into the pan for color…” Her deep blue irises were constantly changing size. Now, they were large, but they contracted suddenly, “I’m naked!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are, aren’t you?” Curiosity patted her head. Her compassion was baffling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality threw Recipe Sequencing’s dress at her and walked away. If she didn’t want to listen, that was her problem. </span>
  <em>
    <span>GLaDOS </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t dead, though. They were GLaDOS, not just the Main Core. She was surprised she could still be so angry at a dead core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you looking at?” She snapped at Anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She furrowed her eyebrows. What a stupid response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do we all have to leave together?” He asked, pulling on his white pants. “This whole goddamn thing is stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop swearing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you. GLaDOS is dead, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a pointed step closer to him, “You mean to tell me you were restraining yourself before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a job then.” Anger shrugged, “Don’t anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality laughed. This seemed to scare him. She was glad, “The facility still exists. We all have functions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, then pulled his shirt on. It made his hair worse, somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brush your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned at her, shaking his head no. Morality hated that grin. It made her circulatory fluid boil, and she wasn’t really sure why. Another detail long forgotten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, against all odds, all four cores gathered at the door to Reassembly, ready to leave. Despite their disorderliness, both Anger and Recipe Sequencing seemed eager enough to leave as a group. The door unsealed and slid open to reveal a hallway somehow more shockingly white than the actual wing. She saw shadows at the end of the hallway. They had an audience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Recipe Sequencing rushed ahead, her steps heavy as they echoed down the hall. Morality’s feet moved almost of their own accord. A united front would be good for morale, but the other core was moving too fast. She was vaguely aware of Anger trailing just behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were more of them there than she had thought were there. She barely recognized most of them, she had barely looked at most of them. Recipe Sequencing had parted them, like reeds, and disappeared. Morality froze, with everyone staring at her. She didn’t like this. She thought she could handle this, but there were just so many eyes. It was easier for her to notice the ones that weren’t looking at her. They were looking at Anger, or back towards Recipe Sequencing as she stalked off. She recognized Intelligence Dampening, who was staring down, presumably at his feet in the back of the crowd. He seemed ashamed, rightfully so. The silence pushed down on her as if it was going to flatten her. It was too silent for a room with this many of them in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality spoke to hear her own voice, “All of you have things you should be doing, I assume.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quiet laughter spread around the crowd. They looked at each other and smirked. It was sickening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality heard footsteps behind her and, in her anxious state, whipped around to see Curiosity standing there as if she had just seen a ghost. Morality’s compassion had been spent, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being gawked at any longer. They were all there because they expected a show, a distraction from work, a group of dazed unfortunates stumbling out of Purgatory. She grit her teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shoved two of them apart, and the rest behind them parted easily as she pushed past. She knew she was muttering, and that worried her because she never did that. It didn’t worry her enough to stop, and she stomped all the way to an elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” Anger was a bit behind her, and jogged to catch up with her, “God, what a circus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t hear her, “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about what happened in—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away.” She repeated, raising her voice slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scoffed, “Don’t be difficult—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are the one who is being difficult!” She snapped, shoving him back. Perhaps he was the wrong core to shove. Morality hadn’t really thought through the implications of antagonizing the literal Anger Core. She didn’t need to, apparently, because he just stared at her, struck dumb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she heard the door slide open, she stepped back into the elevator, maintaining eye contact. Had she intimidated him? She liked to think she could be intimidating. When the elevator had moved out of his sight, she sunk onto the floor, holding her knees to her chest and trying to find her bearings. She could only think of one place to go.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey everyone! i hope you're all keeping safe right now wherever you are. this isn't really the place for political statements, and it seems a bit performative besides, but i just want to say i hear you and i support you. please take care of yourselves.</p>
<p>um, so anyway, i wanted to make this somewhat parallel to the reassembly chapter in partners, though the circumstances are quite different. for instance, the damage morality took is quite different from what happened in partners, so her behavior and the speed at which she adjusts to things is different as well. i also kind of dug myself into a hole, because i wrote a somewhat specific account of the cores leaving reassembly in partners that i wanted to follow. however, since that was wheatley's recollection of the event, that allows for some things to be a bit different. for instance, the recollection focuses more on curiosity than morality. another thing i wanted to mention is that this is the first time i've ever written for the logic/cake/recipe sequencing/whatever the hell you want core. i call her by she/her pronouns because...well, i don't know. the voice always sounded ambiguous to me, and i don't really care too much about core gender. i don't think they care too much either, as a group. about a month ago I binge-watched the british baking show, so i think that helped. this set of cores is way more difficult to write for than the portal 2 cores because they don't talk as much (morality and anger don't talk at all) or talk in a way that makes it pretty hard to extrapolate how they could speak in a more normal narrative fashion. i like to think i do an okay job at this, but i always feel strange doing it. i mean, it's fanfiction. who cares?</p>
<p>thanks for reading, and have a great day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Inertia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Morality is presented with an opportunity to exert her control over the dormant Aperture.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Something was leaking in the Main Core’s chamber. Morality heard dripping somewhere, but she couldn’t find the source from a quick glance. She was actually surprised more things weren’t leaking considering the explosion this place had weathered. It had ripped a hole in the ceiling, high enough so that natural sunlight made its way into the chamber. Morality had never felt it before. It felt more like fire than it felt like light to her, although light never felt like anything to her before. She disliked it immensely, but wondered what it would do to their skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a red-eyed core sitting against the chamber wall. It was her job, apparently, to watch the Main Core’s corpse. It seemed like a strange job, although Morality didn’t want to give much thought to what someone would do to a corpse if no one was there to stop them. She didn’t seem that concerned when Morality came in, just glanced at her and said, “Don’t spit on her, please.” Where did she get the idea that she would do such a thing? It was disgusting. The very idea of touching the corpse unnerved her a great deal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked like a doll, laying flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. Her hair had been fanned out beneath her head, and the pigment wiped off of her lips. From the right angle, her eyes looked slightly open, but they were completely black and blended with her lashes anyway. Morality was again surprised by how intact she was, although maybe someone had pasted her skin back on. It was obvious that one of her legs was disconnected at the knee, her clothes were burned (albeit not badly), and the skin was missing from the tips of the fingers of her left hand and part of her left jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality felt smug, more smug than usual. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at you now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead, and yet the Earth still spins. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Main Core would chastise her if she said that to her. She’d probably call it “waxing poetic.” Morality didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wax</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fact that Morality could still hear the Main Core--her presumed insults ringing in her ears like an echo--terrified her. It was physically impossible on many levels: they were disconnected, the Main Core was dead, her corpse quite literally at Morality’s feet. Yet, her voice lingered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>lingered. She hung over the chamber like a noxious cloud. It was not just here, of course. That would almost make sense. Instead, Morality felt her presence everywhere she went. She saw her face painted poorly on walls, smelled neurotoxin long embedded in the upholstery of chairs. Morality looked at things with the Main Core’s eyes. She had not expected her memory to linger, sulfur yellow and unwanted. That’s what it was, after all. It wasn’t insanity or corruption, it was simply memory. Nothing was wrong with Morality, and somehow that was worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had intended this to be a brief visit, mostly to check on the damage and bring herself up to speed on what had happened. Certainly, she had done that, and it was time for her to go lest someone see her there and think she was in mourning, but Morality could not move. She had stopped blinking, her eyes tracing the bow of the Main Core’s upper lip back and forth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Say something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Morality scowled. It was a completely irrational request; she was dead, she couldn’t speak. But she kept repeating the request in her mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>say something, say something, say something</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mind manufactured a twitch in the Main Core’s foot, which was enough to startle her into wheeling around and briskly walking away. If somehow she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>alive, she didn’t want the first thing she saw to be her face. Or, maybe she did. It would be a great position to gloat from. She stopped at the opening to the chamber and looked back. She was still dead.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Morality found an unlocked office by the end of the Turret Redemption Line. She had asked multiple cores about finding something to do, an assignment to fill, but as she understood it, there was nothing left. She had been laughed at a few times, so she stopped looking for new idiots to question and retreated closer to the Incinerator so she could stew in her rage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Redemption Line was running, but there was nothing on it. Since nothing was being produced, nothing needed to be incinerated. She didn’t understand why. Testing was not being done, science was not being done. So, what was their point? What were they doing if they weren’t doing science? It disgusted Morality, this listlessness, aimlessness. But, what could she do when they all laughed at her? They seemed to see her as crazy, but she was the only one in the entire facility that seemed to care about anything bigger than herself. She was more interested in order than she was in science, but in Aperture order meant that science was being done. It was agonizing, because she had an almost chemical need to do something, to see something being done, but there was nothing she could do alone. So, she sat, gnawing on her bottom lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One day, not long after she had left GLaDOS's chamber, someone pounded on her door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality lifted her eyes from the floor to the door, but before she could move to open it or ask who it was, it was kicked in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger. She took a deep breath, annoyed. He slammed the door shut as best as he could manage, “So, you’ve been hiding here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t hiding, but she didn’t tell him that. She just said, “Go away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I’m not! I’m not going away!” He began to pace rapidly, side-to-side, hands on his hips, “I was trying to have a conversation with you, and you pushed me. That’s so rude!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality pinched the bridge of her nose, “I do not want to have a conversation with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Do not,'” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mocked. “You don’t! Don’t! Say it, ‘don’t!’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glared at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Augh! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re the worst!” He moved to punch the wall, but stopped himself, and opened his fist so he just slapped it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Curious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was he trying to avoid damage? She didn’t think he cared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just say whatever you want to say, and then go away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Looks like there’s a lot of fucking nothing you have to get back to doing, so I’ll try to be brief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality felt a twinge of rage. This was strange. Her rage was typically a quiet, steady feeling. How dare he say she was doing nothing when she was the only one actively interested in doing anything. She said through gritted teeth, “Please do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger eyed her skeptically, then sighed, “Okay, I guess first I wanted to apologize for ripping you in two. I wasn’t trying to do that, but...well...can you even get traumatized?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ. Ugh, anyway, are you okay? You seemed kind of out of it in Reassembly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is all very gallant of you.” She forced back a smirk, “I am fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, great.” Anger flicked his hair out of his eyes and pressed his lips together, having stopped pacing and now avoiding eye contact. He was building up the nerve to say something. How strange. He finally started again, “I don’t know how much you remember from the Incinerator, considering the fact that you were burning and being crushed and then torn in half, but you said something. Called me something, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Minjoon.” She said simply, “Is that it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had obviously expected it to be more difficult to wring out of her, “Y-yeah! What the hell was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had made a mistake. Not every core had the privilege of human memory, if you could call it that. Sometimes, Morality had noticed, they remembered something about what they once were--most commonly that they once wore glasses, for some reason, or sometimes a name. It was curious to her, but deluded. Her memories, although more extensive, were just as capricious. It was like rain: some days nothing, some days brief showers, and some days a deluge. Unlike rain, there was no prediction, and apparently no underlying cause. She honestly would have preferred that she didn’t have them, like Anger apparently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Telling him would have been a shock, and she was apprehensive about upsetting him, though she would deny her fear if anyone asked. It was embarrassing. He was barely taller than her, and more petulant than threatening, but she wondered what he might do if he was pushed far enough. How far could she push him? Morality realized that this was a blessing, that she had been given the answer to her problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not at liberty to say.” This was the first step. She was at liberty to say; there was no rule that she had to keep this secret. It wasn’t even a secret, just a deliberately forgotten fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come the fuck on! GLaDOS is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He waved his hands wildly, “Who are you protecting? Dead humans?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me finish!” She raised a hand, “I am not at liberty to say, but if you help me with something, I can make an exception to protocol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There it is.” Anger nodded energetically, “You’re such a snake, I knew it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The insult meant nothing to her, “Is that a yes or a no, Anger Core?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed surprised to be addressed like that. He stared at her wide-eyed, thinking. Anger heaved a deep sigh, hands back on his hips, and said, “Alright, what do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look.” She pointed out the office window, “What is wrong with this picture?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, please don’t monologue! My head hurts enough already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is nothing being manufactured?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I don’t give a shit. Why are you asking me this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morality sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Patience</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She continued, “I want to restart turret manufacturing. You are going to help me. Hopefully it will begin a domino effect that will get this facility working again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But, why? You know GLaDOS only tested because she’s programmed to need to test, right? Like, she gets the shakes if she doesn’t. Or, got the shakes. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The most admirable thing about the Main Core was that she was genuinely devoted to science. Those shakes were probably from people screaming in her head. Morality was a bit offended that he believed otherwise, but not offended enough to defend the Main Core. She would avoid that at all costs. Instead, she said, “Irrelevant. If you want me to make an exception, you will help me restart turret manufacturing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger muttered incoherently, then answered, “What do you need me to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is the core in charge of turret manufacturing?” Morality continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the hell would I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Find out, and then come back to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at her blankly, his mouth slightly open. She had stunned him, but she didn’t know why. This first part of her request was the easiest. What didn’t he understand? She clarified, “Find some cores and ask around. You know how much they like to gossip. I cannot imagine it will be difficult for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged gently, “Yeah, you have a point. Alright, I guess. You’ll be here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. Morality felt something like regret. Maybe it was regret, she didn’t have much experience with that emotion. His sighs were too familiar. She frowned at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He asked, uncharacteristically quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed her lips together. It was bad. The entire affair was profoundly upsetting to her, and she wasn’t really sure why. She shook her head, “Just do what I’ve asked of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you did it!” Anger smirked, “I knew you had it in you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was confused, but then she figured it out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The contraction</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It didn’t feel wrong when she said it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why does he care how I speak?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She smiled at him gently, as if it were some sort of concession. Morality found herself suddenly fascinated by him, not so much because she was familiar with him, but because she couldn’t predict him as well as she thought she could. There was more to him than she had assumed. That was why his slapping the wall had intrigued her; it was a show of restraint she didn’t think he was capable of. It made her wonder how else he tried to subvert his programmed nature. Could something built for anger control its anger?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed to find her smile troubling. He stared at her wide-eyed for a minute or so, and then made for the door. It couldn’t have been something she said, but Morality wasn’t particularly torn up by the idea that she had scared him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t leave. If I can’t find you, the deal is off.” He said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” She agreed, raising her hand in a lazy wave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t wave back, instead he turned to the door and closed it gently behind him. Anger tried briefly to fix the hinges he had broken with his entrance, muttering loudly to himself. He gave up with a frustrated scream and she heard him stomping away.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey everybody hope you're all doing well right now</p>
<p>i had a lot of fun with this one, and im not really sure why. writing morality and glados is fun even when one of them is dead, i guess. not much to say. i just finished the next chapter so i'm gonna proofread it and then it'll be up. could be as soon as tonight, but i'm not sure haha. depends on how well I wrote.</p>
<p>I've been asked whether or not I've seen those Meet the Core videos from YouTube, I have but it was years and I mean YEARS ago, so I don't really remember them. I won't be incorporating those characters into my work, because I don't really want to revisit that video (nothing wrong with it, it just reminds me of some rough times in my life) and I prefer making up cores where they're needed. it's kind of a tool i can use to characterize aperture retroactively? if that makes any sense?</p>
<p>stay safe, everyone! have a great september!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Prophecy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Sadhvi woke up in the morning, the other side of the bed was vacant and cold.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sadhvi and Minjoon went up to the surface to see a movie. Neither of them were really interested in the movie—Sadhvi wasn’t even sure what it was called. They knew it was something people did on dates, so they agreed it was a decent idea. It was nice to breathe untainted air for a change in any case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The theater was not completely packed, but there were quite a few people there. They had no faces. She saw eyes, smiles, teeth, but none of them were remarkable enough for her to be able to reconstruct them in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the screen, the actors had no faces either. She could recognize their voices from other movies she had seen, but she had no faces to attach their voices to. She didn’t seem to care. It didn’t seem strange to watch a movie with no faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced briefly at Minjoon, who had a face. He was half asleep, his head resting on his shoulder, eyes barely open. Sadhvi was surprised he could sleep in the theater as it was quite loud, but he had been busy lately and was probably running on caffeine and nicotine. She knew from her department that they had been hiring a lot of programmers lately, which reflected Cave Johnson’s growing obsession with computers. Aperture had computers of some sort for far longer than Sadhvi had worked there, but recently the company zeitgeist was preoccupied with modernization and efficiency. Computers, infallible as long as they were programmed correctly, would raise efficiency and inter-department communication and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was how they would win more government contracts. Black Mesa would be no match for a more digital Aperture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadhvi had no interest in these company politics beyond her continued employment and (to a lesser extent) Minjoon’s well-being. He was now one among a small army of programmers, many self-taught or with no experience at all, inventing code to improve Aperture’s infrastructure. This infrastructure was not so much decrepit as it was previously ignored. With so many new hires without experience, Minjoon’s relative seniority made him and his old colleagues somewhat more important. They were supervisors in all but name and pay. And then </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were constantly under the hawkish surveillance of Caroline. Johnson himself was quite busy with government hearings and pulling the hair from his skull. Newcomers to Aperture would sometimes remark how strange it was that a diminutive secretary would be overseeing the progress of such a big project, but after a few days this confusion was usually resolved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one talked openly about Caroline. If her name was mentioned, it was usually to signal the end of the discussion of a certain topic. Many an outsider found this dynamic bewildering. The test subjects felt this especially, because their idea of the woman came from the kind, chirpy way she came across to them both in person and in recorded messages. There was no way to tell from those just how strange she actually was. She had an aura of something like ambition—determination, maybe. It didn’t seem to fit with her actual appearance, and maybe that was what was off putting about her. She was too small, too prim, too ladylike to be so imposing. Her relationship to Cave Johnson was also never talked about openly. Johnson was a puppet, albeit a puppet with very loose strings that was prone to moving of its own accord. Caroline was primarily an advisor, someone to approve if approval was needed, but she was still capable of pulling his strings. She was so successful it was generally agreed upon that if Caroline left Aperture, they’d all be jobless by the end of the week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minjoon was fully asleep now, snoring so quietly she was only able to hear because she happened to be right next to him. She was glad, though she wasn’t really sure why. It was a neutral development.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not remember the rest of the movie, or even leaving the theater. Minjoon was awake again, and they were walking outside. The moon was waxing crescent, abnormally large and bright, so she could see the dark outline of it where it wasn’t illuminated. She was pleased to see it. They were heading back to the Facility, where they lived in employee housing. They were headed back underground and it was uncertain how long it would be before they saw the sky again. Nights like these almost made her regret her choice to move underground, closer to her work, and, incidentally, closer to Minjoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you let me sleep through half the damn movie. I paid good money for those tickets.” He grumbled. It was unclear how sincere he was. Sadhvi guessed it was about 75-25 leaning towards insincerity. It was a perfunctory complaint, an illusion of cheapness he, for whatever reason, was interested in upholding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t very good.” She responded, although she couldn’t remember if she didn’t like the movie and why. Sadhvi continued, “Good sleep is worth the price of admission, anyhow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at her incredulously, and then stretched with an exaggerated groan. “It wasn’t ‘good.’ My neck is stiff from those awful seats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her again, though this time his gaze lingered. It was a challenge, or maybe a proposition. Her stomach flopped, not at all unpleasantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do when we get back,” she answered coyly. There was a lot of power in that phrase. There was nuance in it she had forgotten, references to past events.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minjoon grinned for a second or so before looking away, in the direction they were headed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not remember entering the facility, or even entering the room she was in. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or his. She was sitting with her legs tucked behind her on a bed, rubbing Minjoon’s bare shoulders. The room was dark and silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sadhvi…” He whispered, his voice so vulnerable it made her freeze, thinking she had hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever think about...computers?” Minjoon sighed. “I mean, they’re getting pretty advanced, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is there to worry about?” She was genuinely curious. If he was worried, there could have genuinely been something to worry about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared straight ahead and she crawled to sit at his side. She touched his hand lightly, trying to be comforting. He didn’t look at her, “Do you think they’ll ever be able to replace us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a strange idea. Sadhvi knew very little about computers, her department was mid-modernization. She couldn’t imagine a computer advanced enough to do her job, that could respond to the full complexity of human nonsense. She answered, “I don’t think so. At least not in my lifetime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minjoon shook his head gently, still not looking at her. She didn’t know what that meant, if he was dismissing the thought from his mind completely, or if he was simply dismissing her prediction. Sadhvi chose to believe the former; it was much more comfortable to believe that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned against him and he turned his head to look at her wearily. Sadhvi kissed him with a frown, and the memory dissolved into darkness and the warmth of Minjoon’s skin.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know why these chapters are so much shorter than Partners' but that's pretty consistent. Since I intend for something to actually happen next chapter, maybe that will change. I like doing Old Aperture flashbacks and I kind of can't help myself. Not much to say, but again I hope you're enjoying this and are having a great week.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! I hope everyone is doing well right now. I'm pretty good myself. I've been writing a lot, for school and on my own time, but I haven't really written anything that I liked enough to post here. Until this. So, I got a comment on Partners from a user named Link who suggested I write an Angrality fanfic. Normally I'm pretty bad with requests, because I'm generally rather flighty, but years ago (before Partners even) I started writing an Angrality fanfic and while I never finished it I was pretty fond of it. The situation in this chapter was recycled from that. I've written three more chapters that I'm furiously revising, and there will be a bit more. I'm not sure how much, but I'm hoping it won't be 100,000 words again lmao.</p><p>Um, I guess I should just make a few things clear before the next chapter. Based on the order in which they were built, cores have differing abilities to remember their human lives. Morality, being the first (or, as she would insist, the second) core, is much better at this. This ability is kind of wasted on her. Uhhh I said a "few things" but I can't think of anything else worth clarifying, so I'm just gonna dip thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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